


Tomorrow

by merae2888



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Heavy Angst, Love Confessions, Minor Character Death, Sad, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:46:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merae2888/pseuds/merae2888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s wrong?” </p><p>Clarke gestures rather hysterically to the red, swollen cuts on his abdomen. “I’m tired of you almost dying every other day.” </p><p>OR</p><p>Clarke and Bellamy's version of love at the end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: I have no idea how nuclear reactors work, so my apologies at how wrong my plot is in that regard. 
> 
> I tagged every character I used in this story but it's mostly about Bellamy and Clarke. 
> 
> Heavy angst warning, like I made myself cry while writing this. You've been warned. I put a lot of tags on this because I really don't want anyone to get upset. I'm going to repeat one more time: This is very sad at the end.

The imminent end of the world doesn’t change anything. They still have to hunt, guard themselves against predators and find safe places for their people to rest.

 

Clarke and Bellamy effortlessly take charge, with Kane and Abby’s approval, while Raven leads a team to devise a way to shut down the nuclear reactors before they melt the planet.

 

“Keep working,” Bellamy says. His eyes pass along the rough sketches that Raven and Monty are hunched over. “We’ll get dinner.”

 

“Sounds good, honey,” Raven says without looking up, zero inflection in her voice. Bellamy pats her shoulder, doesn’t even bother with a sarcastic retort. Monty smiles tightly at him before turning away and writing some complicated equation on the board they’d recovered from Arkadia.

 

There’s a tinge of sadness at leaving two of his favorite people behind but it’s quickly shoved away as he focuses on what must be done. What he must do. Everyone has a job and his is to keep them all fed and safe and alive. Theirs is to figure out how to save the world.

 

Bellamy would trade places in a heartbeat if he could but he’s no Raven or Monty. He’s the action guy, the one continuously trying to pry life from this heartless planet, along with Clarke.

 

“Ready?” She’s right behind him, gun slung over her shoulder, pack secured on her back.

 

“You don’t have to come,” he says. It’s an automatic thing between them now and she ignores it with a roll of her eyes, like she’s done every time he suggested that she stay behind, safe in the camp while he takes the risks. She strides away from the Rover, toward the woods, forcing him to quickly gather his supplies and then to jog to catch up with her.

 

Clarke busies herself with collecting edible berries and roots, leaving him to hunt for the markings of nearby, passing animals. It’s difficult in the low light of day, but the sun hasn’t really shone for weeks. There always seems to be curtain of gray covering the sky, no white clouds or golden rays that they experienced during their first few months on Earth. The sky always looks like it’s dying now.

 

“Hey, Bell,” Clarke says softly. He goes to her side, kneeling beside her and focusing on the footprints in the dirt that she’s found. “Deer?”

 

He nods before prodding the soft soil with his fingers. “Fresh, too.”

 

They move on, perfectly in sync, rotating together to scan as much of the surrounding woods as possible, every sense on high alert for a smell or noise that might hint at the animal’s location, following it’s tracks as best as they can. Neither of them can track for shit but the recent rains have softened the ground enough that the footprints are clearly visible and it’s not long before Bellamy tugs on Clarke’s sleeve to stop her. When she turns to look at him, he holds a finger to his lips and points through the trees at the brown furry backside of some tall animal. There are two many trees and plants to clearly see what it is but Bellamy doesn’t care. He’s just hoping it’s edible.

 

Clarke watches intently as he takes aim, his body holding the rifle just like he taught her so long ago, like he was born with it hitched into his shoulder. The shot rings out and Clarke flinches as the animal drops to the ground, dead from one bullet. “Nice job,” she says, offering him a smile.

 

Clarke’s face burns as he grins roguishly at her. “Pretty badass, huh?”

 

It was, she agrees silently because she’d rather vomit than give him the satisfaction. It’s not like he can’t read every look on her face anyway. “That thing was huge. I could’ve hit it,” she says as she walks toward where the animal fell.

 

He’s right behind her with a length of rope already out and wrapped around his hands. “Probably,” he says easily as he starts tying the hind legs together. “But could you have killed it with one bullet?”

 

She scoffs. He’s a much better shot than her, killing prey quickly and efficiently, and he never lets her forget it. But of course, she’s not just going to come out and say that he’s the best, that his efficient use of bullets is actually pretty damn sexy, that his master hunter status is something of a turn-on. Earth does funny things to what’s considered normal attractive qualities. She shakes the thought away, tears her eyes away from his broad shoulders moving strongly under his dirty, blue shirt. “We’ll never know because you didn’t even let me try.”

 

He laughs then, and Clarke almost shudders at the low throaty sound of it. “Whatever you say, Clarke.”

 

“You know, I’ll never get better if you don’t let me practice.”

 

He shifts to the front legs, wrapping the rope in a neat knot near the hooves. “You want another shooting lesson?” he asks, gazing up at her through his long lashes, those huge brown eyes playful and a bit smug.

“Maybe I do.” She smiles softly, contemplating him with unbidden fondness. The moment is so surreal. She’s flirting with Bellamy Blake, in the woods, a dead elk at their feet. Life will never cease to amaze.

 

His eyebrows rise with interest and then he’s thrown to his back, a flash of hide soaring by her. There’s a splash of blood on Bellamy but she focuses on getting her gun out and aiming at the creature in the underbrush. It’s snuffling in the dirt, scenting the fresh blood in the air. “You okay?” she asks Bellamy. Out of the corner of her eye she can see him trying to sit up, gripping his arm tightly around his ribs.

 

“Shit,” he mutters. She ticks her head his way when he groans. “Don’t look at me. Keep your eyes on that thing.”

 

Easier said than done. The day’s light is even dimmer now and the most she can see of the beast that attacked Bellamy is black tuffs of fur through the overgrown plants. She can still hear it though. “I think it’s leaving.”

 

“It’s not,” Bellamy confirms and a moment later, she can see the thing coming closer. “It can smell my blood.”

 

She does look over then, and almost runs to his side. There are two dark red slashes in his torso and the blood is gushing out from the deep wounds and soaking into his shirt. “Clarke, focus.”

 

The thing is closer now and she aims the gun again, promising she won’t look away until she’s killed it. Bellamy crawls away towards his rifle but he right before he reaches it, the thing lunges again and Clarke shoots once, twice, three times. The beast dies disgustingly, black blood oozing from the bullet holes, a whining wet noise echoing around them as it falls and Clarke has to scamper back to avoid it hitting her. Bellamy hooks his arm around her leg to tug her away as the thing rolls closer and then it’s finally still.

 

“What the fuck is that?” Bellamy finally asks.

 

“I don’t even want to know.” Clarke kneels beside Bellamy. “How bad is it?”

 

He shifts to his butt and sits down heavily before pulling his shirt up his chest. “You tell me, doc.”

 

It’s bad, really bad. Clarke holds her fingers to his pulse and breathes a little easier at the strength she finds in it. “We need to stop this bleeding.”

 

It’s worse than that though. He’s going to need stitches and a lot of them. The idea of doing them out here, while their exposed and night is quickly descending, makes her hands shake but she works as quickly as she can, stripping off his shirt and using it to wipe away the worst of the blood. She gets the medical kit out of her pack and threads a needle with the stitching thread.

 

He grumbles as he reaches around to one of the pockets in his pants and pulls out a flask, drinking deeply.

 

“Leave some for me.” He hands the flask to her without a word and flops to the ground. Clarke splashes a bit of moonshine over his wounds and he hisses loudly. “Sorry.”

 

“I’ve had worse than this.” And Clarke really can’t think about that right now. The scars on his face are still too easy to make out for her liking. She takes a long swallow, wincing at the sharp taste and then she sets to work, thankful that her fingers are steadier and he’s quiet, only fidgeting now and then as she sews his skin back together.

 

He passes out after a while and the loss of his eyes on her makes it easier to work. The stitches are neat and even. There will be a perfect scar left behind to join his impressive collection.

 

His skin is warm and pliable in her hands and something about the easy way that it comes together with what is essentially a piece of string makes Clarke want to scream. Will his body be enough to protect him, when puts himself in the way of danger almost everyday? Will it keep him safe; guard his heart and soul from everything that tries to hurt him? Will it endure everything to keep him with her forever?

 

A tear slips down her cheek and when Clarke goes to wipe it away, Bellamy’s hand gets in the way. He’s staring up at her, eyes soft and concerned, as he brushes the teardrop away.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Clarke gestures rather hysterically to the red, swollen cuts on his abdomen. “I’m tired of you almost dying every other day.”

 

His fingers drag over her jawline, linger at the dimple in her chin. “That’s why I keep you around: to put me back together.”

 

She captures his hand and entwines their fingers. He goes completely still at the press of her lips on his rough knuckles. “I need you alive.”

 

“I’m alive,” he promises quickly. “I intend to stay that way.”

 

“I need you alive _and_ whole.” Her fingers dance over his stomach, making his muscles clench. “Always.”

 

“That’s a tough order,” he says wryly, almost desperate for her to smile.

 

“Bellamy,” she whispers. “You don’t get it.”

 

He frowns and squeezes her hand until she looks at him. “I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

 

Her eyes roam over his face, resting on his forehead, his nose, his mouth. Almost unconsciously, he parts his lips.

 

“Bellamy, I…I lo-“

 

“Don’t,” he says suddenly.

 

Surprise and anger flash in her eyes. She drops his hand, laughs harshly and wipes furiously at the fresh tears on her face. “Why not?”

 

He winces as he sits up hastily and wraps an arm around her, drawing her face into his shoulder. She tries not to but she can’t help it. She skims her nose along the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his sweat. Bellamy sighs and rests his head against her.

 

“Just…not like this. Not because I almost died or because you’re scared. Not while I’m covered in dried blood and can barely move.”

 

“It’s not like that.”

 

“I know, I know it’s not, Clarke, but-“ He tilts her chin up until she’s looking at him again. His resolve wavers a little. He’s been thinking of this moment for a long time and he’s not delusional or anything, he knows that their lives aren’t conducive to romance or flighty dreams of love but this, huddled in the wet, cold dirt and in so much debilitating pain that he can’t imagine mustering up the strength to kiss her and hold her the way he wants to is just not the way it should happen. He wants a better story for them. “Tell me tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, tomorrow.” He leans in and whispers the next words directly into her ear. “When I can do something about it.”

 

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes but he gets that smile he was aching for. “Tomorrow isn’t so far away.”

 

But she doesn’t say tell him the next day because that’s when the rains start. Thick drops of black, stinging water pelt down on them and the day is spent running, running, running.

 

***

 

It started as a scouting mission. Standard. Routine. A few hours top.

 

Except that’s impossible because Earth hates them.

 

“What the fuck is that?”

 

It’s a twister but Clarke doesn’t need to say it. He knows what it is and what it does and he’s already flooring the rover, the engine revving and everyone holding onto their seats as it lurches forward.

 

“We need cover,” Clarke says unnecessarily. “The rover won’t protect us.”

 

“You don’t say,” Bellamy mutters. His eyes are frantically scanning the landscape in front of them. Clarke looks through her binoculars but it’s so dark out, it’s impossible to decipher the difference between shadows and mountains. A flash of lightening cracks the graphite sky, illuminating the world enough for Clarke to spot something that she hopes with every bone in her body is a cave.

 

“Bellamy, go left!”

 

The rover jerks as Bellamy turns the wheel. Several groans sound from the back. “What’d you see?”

 

“A cave…I think.” Bellamy scowls at her and Clarke shrugs. “You got a better idea?”

 

The twister is chasing them, a black swirling mass of death careening over the flat lands at alarming speeds. Bellamy curses under his breath and punches the gas pedal harder, willing the rover to move as fast as possible.

 

Raven’s shouting something from the back about over-exerting the engine but they ignore her. Another flash of lighting strikes and Bellamy finally sees what Clarke did and steers the rover directly to the dark gaping hole.

 

“When I park, everyone run inside as fast as you can.” They all look out the front to see where Bellamy’s pointing.

 

“What about the supplies?” Miller asks, a quiet dread in his voice.

 

“Leave everything. There’s no time.”

 

Clarke meets Jasper’s eyes for a split second but he’s already sitting beside Raven, a hand on her arm.

 

“Radio the camp, tell them to hunker down,” Bellamy tells Miller and Clarke listens intently, a prayer in her heart that the message will get to her mother and Kane through all the static.

 

It’s not a cave but a toppled concrete building. Bellamy swings the rover around and backs into the opening as close as he can without hitting the top of it.

 

Everyone scrambles out in a mad rush. Jasper lifts Raven up, with surprisingly minimal protest from her, and runs inside with her in his arms. Clarke and Bellamy bring up the rear, running after the others until they’re at a wall. It’s too close to the entrance for Bellamy’s liking but there’s nothing to be done. The sky has no light left to offer; venturing further inside could be just as dangerous with the lost of vision. The whistling winds of the tornado are right over top, deafening every other noise except for the pounding of their hearts.

 

Bellamy yells at everyone to get down and cover their heads as small fragments of cement start raining down on them. He pulls Clarke over to the sidewall and pushes her to lie down. He crowds himself around her, pressing them both against the wall and pulling her face into his chest, wraps his arms around her head protectively.

 

“So, what do you think is worse,” she whispers. “Death by tornado or death by cave-in?”

 

“Cave-in will be quicker,” and he’s not really joking but Clarke still laughs and he closes his eyes, tries to hold onto the way the sound fills him up with hope. “Listen, Clarke, if this is it…I need you to know-“

 

“Shhh.” She wraps an arm around his waist. “Tell me tomorrow.”

 

“What if–“

 

“Tell me tomorrow when the sun is shining and I can see the look on your face. Okay?”

 

He cups her jaw, runs his thumb across the apple of her cheek. “Whatever you say.”

 

But they might actually die and he has to do _something_ so he presses a long, wet kiss to her forehead. She tilts her head up, wanting his lips but her teeth catch on his chin. He growls playfully and scoots down, until they are nose to nose. She trails her fingers up and down his back, laughs when he bites her nose softly and then he’s right there, his mouth hovering an inch from hers, their panting breaths mingling with the thunder and the skittering rocks that fall from the cave roof every few seconds as the storm swells outside and Clarke licks her lips as Bellamy dips his head-

 

“If you two horn-dogs pick this moment to finally start hooking up, I’m gonna kill you both,” Murphy says plainly. A few of the other kids laugh and Clarke finds herself grinning despite the bursting of her happy little Bellamy-bubble.

 

Bellamy is not as amused. “Shut up, Murphy.”

 

“Kiss my ass, lover-boy.”

 

More chuckles echo through the ruins and Bellamy half-raises himself up. Clarke kisses his cheek while tugging on his arm to get him to lie back down and, eventually, he sighs in defeat. He shuffles around, wraps a leg over both of hers, like his body can shield her from all the terrible things on the planet, or the kids laughing at them.

 

“Tomorrow,” he promises softly and Clarke presses a smile into his chest.

 

They wake up chest deep in cold, dirty rainwater. The rover’s been shifted from where Bellamy parked it, allowing a few scant rays of weak sunlight into their temporary sanctuary. They gather themselves together, wet, miserable, scared but alive.

 

Bellamy kisses Clarke on the temple, lingering for a moment longer than necessary but he says nothing, just smiles, small and sad, before Raven calls for him and he heads toward where she’s leaning under the hood, to see if the rover will still run.

 

“Tomorrow,” Clarke whispers to herself.

 

***

 

“I wish I could go,” Raven says, staring at the dying embers in the fire.

 

“We need your freakishly brilliant brain safe, so you can tell us what to do.” Bellamy’s slurring. Clarke’s propped up in his lap and she taps her fingers over his knees, drawing nonsensical patterns.

 

“There’s a poem about this,” Jasper says suddenly. “The world will end, in fire or ice. Either would be nice.” He flops back down, props his head up on Raven’s outstretched leg.

 

“That was beautiful, man,” Monty breathes, dazedly.

 

“I like our version of the end,” Harper chimes in. She raises her cup and the rest of them follow suit, a little clumsily but they all manage to reach the center and clank their cups together.

 

“To moonshine and bombs!” Miller says with that familiar, sly grin. He fills up their empty cups once they’ve all drank. Bellamy considers calling an end to the night because they probably shouldn’t be hungover when they have to blow up nuclear reactors tomorrow but fuck it. They also might, almost certainly, die in fiery explosions tomorrow. He drinks some more at that thought, stares for too long at Clarke’s golden hair, warm and soft in the moonlight. The night is clear and cool for the first time in weeks: the Earth’s farewell present to them.

 

Bellamy looks at his friends and he’ll blame it on the moonshine and impending death but there’s this warmth blanketing his insides and he speaks before he makes the conscious decision to do so. “I have a toast.”

 

They focus on him immediately. “To us. There’s no one else I’d rather face the end of the world with than you fuckups.”

 

There’s a lot of whooping as they clang their cups together again. Bellamy catches Kane’s eye on the far side of the fire. He and Abby are sitting together, much like he and Clarke are; Kane meets his gaze and nods, a somewhat exasperated smile playing on his mouth. Abby looks sadly resigned, an all too familiar expression from the last few weeks.

 

But she smiles as she watches Bellamy lean over to place a kiss on Clarke’s head.

 

***

 

“It’s going to be a contained blast from the inside. Once you find the control room, radio me and I’ll guide you through it.”

 

Bellamy nods once at Raven’s instructions before looking to where Clarke and Monty are standing together, discussing the same plan.

 

“Remind me again why you two aren’t on the same team?” Raven asks.

 

Bellamy shakes his head, an almost bashful look on his face. “Too distracting.”

 

“Right, ‘cause if you’re separated, you won’t be worrying about her the whole time?”

 

Bellamy touches her back and Raven meets his eyes. “I’ll be worrying about all of us.”

 

The reactors were set to explode in three days. Raven and Monty were going to a spot equidistance between the two; Bellamy and Clarke were leading separate teams to each reactor. They were planning to make contact once they were inside, and then Monty and Raven would walk them through destroying the reactors.

 

“We can do this without melting my face off, right?” Bellamy asks with a wry smile as he takes a radio from Raven.

 

“Hopefully. Clarke will kill me if your face gets ruined.”

 

Bellamy breathes a soft laugh and then pulls her in for a tight hug. Raven grips his shirt in her fists, trembling a little in his arms. “Clarke’s not the only one that wants you to come back safe.”

 

“You gonna miss me, Reyes?”

 

“You wish,” she sniffs. Bellamy plants a quick kiss on her forehead and steps back just as Miller comes over. “Everyone’s geared up, Rovers are ready. We should go before we lose the light.”

 

“Alright, just…” He glances at Clarke again and she’s already looking at him. “Give me a minute.”

 

They meet between their two waiting groups and the combined pressure of all of their gazes weighs on his shoulders but he holds Clarke’s eyes as she steps right up into his space. She drags her hands up his chest and winds her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers into his overgrown hair and he lays his forehead against hers, tightens his arms around her waist, enveloping them in their own little bubble.

 

“You got any, profoundly romantic parting words for me?”

 

Bellamy purses his lips and sighs, seemingly deep in thought. “Absolutely…uh…you got enough guns?”

 

“Always.”

 

“And, uh, you know, don’t get blown up.”

 

“Good advice.”

 

“’Cause tomorrow...tomorrow’s gonna be a really good day.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” she asks, a little shakily.

 

“It’s gonna be beautiful and you’re gonna paint the sunrise and go swimming and…have some fun.”

 

“And what will you be doing?”

 

Bellamy smiles, kisses her lightly on the nose. “I’ll be with you.”

 

“I like tomorrow,” she whispers and Bellamy knows she’s crying before he feels the wet press of her lips on his cheek. He pulls back far enough to look at her face, and it engulfs him in an instance. He knew he loved her but maybe it takes a moment on the precipice of separation to truly own the knowledge of things like this and he gets it now. Her gaze is fierce and unafraid and this swelling in his chest goes beyond anything he thought he knew before. He loves her the way the Earth loves the slowly rising sun, consumed by her presence, every inch of him illuminated by her light. He loves her like the gently rolling tide, coming back again and again for another taste. She is his constant: a still, safe place to which he may always return.

 

“I love tomorrow,” he says and his voice does not waver.

 

A smile brightens her for just a moment but someone is coming and Clarke wipes at her cheeks quickly before facing her mother.

 

“I’m sorry, but we need to get going.”

 

Clarke hugs her mom for a second. Then, she turns back to Bellamy one last time, grasping his fingers tightly. “Be safe.”

 

“You too,” he says.

 

Abby stands next to him and they watch Clarke walk away, toward Kane and Murphy. “She’ll be okay,” Abby says after a moment and Bellamy’s sure she’s saying it for both of them.

 

“We’ll all be okay.”

 

Clarke and Kane ride up front in their own vehicle, Murphy in the back. Bellamy had almost protested the idea but there was some fierce protective bond between Clarke and Murphy now, something past ordinary friendship and loyalty and Bellamy knew, without having to ask, that Murphy would do anything he could to protect her.

 

Raven and Monty and the rest of the delinquents piled into the largest vehicle. There was a rumbling of engines and a few waves of goodbye before the drivers veered off toward their respective destinations.

 

They’re silent for a while, Bellamy driving as Abby stares out the window, Miller dozing in the back.

 

“When we decided to send the hundred to Earth, I begged for Clarke to be included.”

 

Bellamy grunts but doesn’t offer her Abby solace. She sniffs before continuing. “I thought I was doing the right thing, giving her the best chance possible.”

 

Bellamy’s not sure what she wants from him, if anything, so he stays quiet. On one hand, he resents her for putting Clarke in danger like that. On the other, he might have never met her…

 

“Now I know I made the right choice,” Abby says after a moment.

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

Her stare is as present as Clarke’s is and he can’t not meet it. When he does, she smiles. “Because she found you.”

 

***

They make good time. _No traffic_ , Bellamy thinks, wishing Clarke was here to roll her eyes at him.

 

The moon is brighter than he ever remembers seeing it and his heart is unusually loud in his chest, like it wants to be heard while it still has a chance. The reactor towers over them, _imposing bastard_ , and Bellamy wants a redo, would rather die beside Clarke Griffin than confront any other fate.

 

Miller and Abby flank him, staring at the huge concrete structure with as much foreboding as Bellamy feels spilling through his blood. The door is eerily easy to open, almost a century of decay wearing the hinges down to nothing. Flashlights guide their way to the control room. The whole place is a study in decay and neglect: stale, dusty, dark.

 

Bellamy wipes down the control panel so he can read the buttons. He pulls the radio from his belt and calls Raven.

 

“In position.”

 

_“Alright, let’s do this.”_

 

***

 

_That was too easy._

 

It’s what Clarke doesn’t say and what everyone else is thinking as they drive toward the rendezvous spot. The reactor, the control room, the detonator; even when the bomb went off, it was an oddly detached, lackluster moment, watching in the rearview mirror as the gray smoke cloud grew larger and larger while the building crumbled to the ground.  

 

They were too far from the other group to make contact. They wouldn’t know their fate until they met up with Raven’s team in the center.

 

Kane smiles over at her and she tries to match it but her effort falls flat. Murphy crouches between them, grim and quiet.

 

The drive back seems longer. Clarke nearly trips over herself to get out after Kane parks. She rushes to the back of the rover where her friends are crowded around the radio. “We did it,” Clarke says, breathless.

 

Monty nods but he’s the only one. Everyone else looks up at her and Clarke stills immediately. “What’s wrong?”

 

Murphy and Kane join her a moment later, just as Raven gets up and walks over to her. She touches Clarke’s arm and swallows. “The detonator isn’t working.”

 

“Okay,” Clarke blinks, refocuses. “So, they’ll come back and you’ll fix it.”

 

Raven’s shaking her head before Clarke even finishes speaking. “I used every last part we had to make those two. There’s nothing I can do-“

 

“There has to be!”

 

Raven steps back and it’s only then, with the moonlight shining on her face that Clarke can see she’s been crying. “I’m sorry.”

 

“We’ll find another way,” Clarke says desperately.

 

“We’re out of time,” Monty says. He’s been crying too; Clarke can hear it in his voice. “They have to detonate the bomb from the inside.”

 

Clarke shakes her head because she knows what’s about to happen next. The silent, fervent stares from the rest of her friends confirm her worst fears.

 

The radio crackles to life in Raven’s hand and Bellamy’s voice rings out into the silence. _“Is she there yet?”_

 

Raven’s hand shakes as she passes Clarke the radio and then she’s just done.

 

She sinks to the ground, kneels in the dirt as everything inside that keeps her alive shatters. Her voice is nothing, not a whisper or a scream, it’s the dry rasp of hope destroyed, of dreams dashed. “Bellamy?”

 

_“Hey, you.”_

 

She clicks off her end so he won’t hear her scream. She buries it in her wrist. Someone puts a hand on her back. Murphy collapses beside her.

 

_“Clarke?”_

 

She sucks in a breath, even though it hurts. “I’m here.”

 

 _“Hey, listen,”_ he sniffs and she can picture his face, the way his nose is scrunching. A sob wracks through her and whoever is at her back grips her shoulder tight. _“I’m kind of on the clock here and I just wanted to say,”_ he hisses and then, _“Fuck, Earth hates us.”_

 

“Don’t do this,” she begs uselessly. “Please. I can’t…I don’t want to live without you.”

 

_“It’s gonna be okay, Clarke.”_

 

“No, it’s not. How can you think that?”

 

He laughs, it’s watery and short and fucking terrible and Clarke’s heart stutters in her chest, like it’s giving up. _“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”_

 

***

 

There’s probably something poetic about having the last thing he hears from Clarke is her crying for him. He listens to her whisper his name between gasping breaths and it already sounds like a long, lost prayer. He rubs his jacket sleeve across his face as he hands the radio off to Abby and goes to hug Miller. “Be good, brother.”

 

Miller’s kind of crying when Bellamy pulls away. “What are we supposed to do without you?”

 

Bellamy opens his mouth to respond when a loud clank interrupts him. The boys look around to see Abby locking herself in the control room. Bellamy sprints to the door. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

Abby barely looks up. “Get out of here, now!” She turns her back on him and starts setting up the bomb the way Raven had instructed.

 

“Don’t do this!” Bellamy screams, hammering his fist on the door. “Abby, please! Open the door.”

 

She meets his eyes and that resolve he always admired in Clarke is striking and terrifying. “It’s done. Go, now!”

 

“Abby, please.” Bellamy tries pulling on the handle, even steps back and kicks at it but it won’t budge. “Abby, come on. What about, Clarke? She needs you.”

 

Abby looks at him through the small, circular window, offers him. “She needs you more.”

 

Bellamy shakes his head but she’s already walking back to the bomb. “You have one minute.” She says calmly. “Go, now.”

 

“Bellamy, let’s go man,” Miller says desperately, yanking on Bellamy’s arm.

 

“Abby, please don’t do this,” Bellamy pleads but it sounds hollow now. He rattles the door again, throwing his whole weight back as he pulls on the handle and his shoulder pops with the effort but it’s no use.

 

“Forty-five seconds,” Abby announces calmly. “You need to go.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy whispers as Miller drags him away with a strong arm around his middle.

 

Before they round the corner, Bellamy hears Abby’s dying wish. “Take care of my daughter.”

 

Bellamy and Miller running full out toward the Rover. Miller guns the engine just as the bomb goes off and rattles them in their seats. When Bellamy looks back, all that’s left is a billowing cloud of smoke.

 

***

 

_“Clarke?”_

She’s still hunched on the ground, gripping the radio so tightly it hurts. “Mom.”

_“Honey, it’s going to be okay.”_

Clarke sits up on her knees. “What do you mean?”

 

It’s a long second before Abby answers her. _“Bellamy and Miller are on their way back.”_

 

There’s a moment of silence and then more than one person breathes out in relief. Clarke finds herself doing it too. Her gut unclenches, her throat loosens, her heart slows to a normal rhythm.

 

Then it sinks in, what must have happened. The scene is eerily easy to picture. The immediate relief she’d felt at hearing that Bellamy was on his way back to her makes her sick because now she realizes what her mom just did for her.

 

Clarke digs her nails into the dirt. From the corner of her eye, she sees Kane fall to his knees and hang his head. Jasper is holding onto Raven as she buries her face into his shoulder. “Mommy...“ but she’s got nothing to say because if she’d been there, she’s not sure she would’ve chosen differently. “I’m so sorry,” she finally whispers. “I love you.”

 

_“I love you so much, Clarke.”_

And then the radio goes silent.

 

***

Clarke wakes with a violent tremor, her mother’s last words ringing in her ears. Bellamy’s got a hand on her back, coaxing her to lie back down. “You’re alright.”  


  


It’s been two weeks and she still wakes most nights. But Bellamy is there every time and she falls back by his side, snuggles into his bare chest and let’s the feel of his whole, alive body soothe her. He rubs circles on her back until she’s settled down.

 

“Tomorrow’s gonna be beautiful,” Clarkes says against his chest.

 

“It’s already tomorrow,” Bellamy murmurs back, “and I love you.”

 

Clarke kisses his chest, right over his heart. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it to the end, I'm sorry. This was so incredibly sad to write but I thought of this idea and it wouldn't get out of my head. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


End file.
